


monotony and getting over it

by kermit_the_frog



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Vampire Slayer, Blood, M/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 14:28:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13148586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kermit_the_frog/pseuds/kermit_the_frog
Summary: Nothing even remotely interesting has ever happened in Micheal’s life. Nothing fun, noteworthy, or cool. He’s tired of the boring self pitying person he’s become but honestly? There’s nothing much he can do about it really. That is until a handsome stranger accidentally turns his boring life on it’s ear when he’s witness to a supernatural event. Things are significantly less boring when he’s fighting Vampires side by side with two gorgeous guys who he thinks might want him too.





	monotony and getting over it

**Author's Note:**

> This was for ragehappysecretsanta this year, specifically this fic was for achievemenhunter.tumblr.com

It’s Tuesday night, so naturally nothing much is happening. Nothing really happens on Tuesdays. Nothing of importance or significance at least. Most people don’t like Mondays, but whether good or bad, shit happens Monday. Nothing’s ever happened on a Tuesday. It might be the shittiest day of them all.

Michael gulps a craft beer because he’s a dying man anyway. A man dying of boredom that is. A man staring at the game playing in the corner of a dive bar when, if you asked him, he’d have no answer to the score or the teams or even the sport. He cares so little, the only reason he’s even looking at the TV is because it’s moving and something is happening, even if it is an old rerun of some sport Michael couldn’t care less about. Hell the only reason he’s in this shitty bar is the thought of being that guy in a shoebox apartment he can barely afford, alone, drinking beer staring at the wall, well the thought of that’s just about the only thing sadder than being where he is and doing what he’s doing.

God, his life sucks.

Even Michael hates his boring, self-pitying ass. He hates his job? He should quit it. He’s lonely? He should try dating. He’s horney? He should pick someone up at the bar or just jack off or something. God he’s such a fucking whiney baby. Get a grip.

“I’ll just have a water.”

Michael’s eyes drift over to this designated driver guy because he has to be even sadder and more bored than Michael. Water? Really.

But this guy doesn’t seem to be part of some sad Tuesday night party, he’s alone at the bar. And he’s pretty fucking hot if Michael’s honest. Like He’s short, built as hell, and wearing a leather jacket. All things setting off Michael’s boner meter.

Come on, Michael. Time to take life into his own hands. And by life, he means… well you know. Apologies to his right hand but he’d prefer other company tonight if he’s honest. So Michael tries to be casual, try not to be too much of a desperate son of a bitch. Just sit next to him, put down his empty glass and order another. There. Now he has a reason to sit next to this guy.

There’s not many guys Michael feels comfortable openly flirting without first finding out a few things, like ‘Is he gay?’ but that’s a box already checked here. He emanates the most powerful top cub vibes what with his shaved head and facial hair and honestly just everything this guy’s got going for him. He’s got to be gay.

“So, you come here often?” Fuck. Shit. It’s been so long since he’s talked to anyone hot, let alone this hot. What a dumb fucking thing to say. ‘You come here often?’ what kind of reply is he gonna get then? ‘Nope/Yeah.’ Then Michael says ‘cool’ and that’s that. The end. What’s his next line? ‘Are you from fucking tennesse or something? Because I’m a fucking stupid asshole.’

“Nope.” The guy says and MIchael wants to crawl into a fucking hole.

“C-” Michael begins, resigned to how this conversation is going to end.

“Not my scene, usually.” The guy continues. And that accent? What are the chances of another east coaster down here in Texas? High, probably, but still Michael likes.”You?”

“Uh…” He wasn’t expecting to have to reply, fuck. “…Nah, I don’t really get out much, so I’m not really anywhere often, except for work and-”shut the fuck up, Michael! Stop fucking babbling. Act cool you piece of shit. “-uh, home.”

“I’d say the same about myself really, if work wasn’t almost anywhere.” He laughs to himself, finishing off his water.

Michael smiles along with him because he doesn’t know what this guy does so how’s he supposed to get the joke? “So what do you do?”

“Oh, uhh…” The guy drinks his water and he looks like he’s stalling. What, does he strip for bachelorette parties? The fuck is this non-static work environment secret bullshit? “I work, um, freelance… security?”

Well that’s a fucking lie if Michael’s ever heard one. He isn’t gonna call him out on it. Whatever this dude wants to keep private is his fucking business. Instead, Michael just leans in closer, “Wow… that sounds interesting…” He touches the guy’s hand and he realises that he doesn’t have any idea what this guy’s name is. And honestly? Michael’s kinda into that. “Freelance, huh? Flexible work hours?”

“I can get called in last minute pretty often, but mostly I make my own hours.”

“So you’re free tonight,” And here it comes, fucking head first into this shit, “And if we’re both lucky, all morning too?”

“Umm…” It doesn’t even look like he’s paying goddamn attention. The guy is straight up looking over his shoulder at something across the bar! “So, you got any, uh, hobbies?”

Well he was just thoroughly ignored. It doesn’t matter, the guy’s beautiful brown eyes are back on him and really Michael doesn’t need some polite guy. All he needs is a burly top to give him something interesting to do for a few hours. “I play a lot of video games,” Attempt number two, “If you want, you can come over. We could play something if you want?”

Just as he gets to inviting him over the dude looks over his shoulder at something again. Or not something Michael realises. Someone. There’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen across the bar. Right. Did he misjudge this guy? No. Not fucking possible, if this guy was straight he would have rebuffed michael immediately. Maybe he’s bi though. He doesn’t even look back at Michael as he starts to speak again, “Yeah, video games. I’ve got an xbox at home. I’ve played so much GTA V sometimes I almost just steal a car in real life before I can stop myself. Hahaha…”

“Right.” This guy’s just babbling now, straight up looking away from him. Not that Michael can blame him or anything, that chick is incredibly hot. Like long curly hair, slim legs, big red lips, and giant tits? If Michael was into girls he would be all up in that. They apparently both want the both thing if those fucking bedroom eyes she’s giving the guy Michael’s been trying to fuck are anything to go by. And fuck, she’s definitely winning this battle, no contest. Michael makes one last attempt, but it’s weak. He’s already given up.

“I’ll suck you off in the parking lot.”

The guy doesn’t even acknowledge him, instead just fucking gets up and walks out, following the gorgeous goddamn woman and her mile-long-leg, curves-in-all-the-right-places ass. Michael hopes they both have a terrible night.

He orders two shots of whiskey, pays, and downs them.

He literally just met that guy and he fucking misses him. Michael has no idea what he’s like, but he was from the east coast. He had such broad shoulders. He played GTA V! They were practically fucking soulmates!

He hopes the shots get him tipsy enough to get over the loss of the love of his life. Or at least tipsy enough to tide him over ‘til he gets home. Then he can actually get shitfaced and cry on the phone at a friend or someone he went on a failed date with or something.

Fuck, Michael doesn’t know. He’ll surprise himself.

His chest is warm and his legs feel like they maybe want to be kind of rebellious and unresponsive. It’s all good. Maybe not good, but not bad.

He’s out of the dim light and into the dark and cool night. He unlocks his phone to call an uber because he lives too far to walk home at midnight.

Ah, cool, it’s 0:01.

“Fuck-”

Michael turns to the voice against his better judgement. It’s the voice of the guy who rejected him and honestly Michael doesn’t need to see those two fucking against the wall, but millions of years of evolution cause him to look over at the source of the noise. Science is bullshit.

But they’re not fucking.

They’re fighting. Viciously. The woman tightens her grip around the guy’s neck and Michael’s head goes fucking blank for a moment. He has no idea what to do, even as the dude knees her in the stomach and pulls her head into the wall next to him as she’s doubled up.

Then he whips out this thing, it looks like a fucking knife. Hot guy has a knife,  what the fuck.

Call 911! Screams the only voice in Michael’s short circuiting brain but it’s too late. The guy drives his -not a knife, it’s too thick- into the woman’s chest and Michael has never been more glad he didn’t get that guy to fuck him.

Shit, he could have ended up stabbed!

His fingers are already dailing, something he does in the split second before things go crazy.

There’s this sound like someone sucking on a pipe organ or something, but like, this sucking sound, but through like an amplifier. It’s loud and like maybe she’s inhaling hard with that -holy shit, holy fucking shit, she’s got a full on stick in her chest- in her lungs. Then like she’s voldemort in the last Harry Potter Movie, she flakes away. All at once, she turns to dust, or like dandruff, or dandelion seeds as she floats away into the wind.

There’s gravel stuck into Michael’s hands before he even knows what that means. His ass hurts and not in the way he wanted it to. Shit. Shit. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck!

The guy’s eyes snap onto him as Michael’s muscles bypass his brain and just start scrambling as far away from this guy standing above him with a fucking sharp stick he used to kill and fucking evaporate some woman in this goddamn parking lot. He’s going to die. He’s going to fucking die here.

Michael’s back hits the front of a parked car and there’s no further he can go. The guy is standing right over him and Michael can see the guy’s eyes snap from him to the phone on the ground. Shit. Michael dropped his fucking phone. If only he’d hit that call button, it’s not likely but at least there’d be some fucking chance that he wouldn’t get stabbed. It’s too late now though.

The guy picks up his phone. “Huh. I guess you saw all that then…”

Michael is so dead.

Then he sticks out his hand. His empty hand. Like he’s trying to help Michael up. Michael instinctively flinches, drawing further back. He wanted to sleep with a fucking murderer. What the hell is wrong with him.

“Wait, uh,” The guy takes his hand back, following Michael’s eyes to the wooden stake in his hand. Like there was something else that Michael was going to be scared of. What the fuck is wrong with this guy? Oh right, he’s fucking crazy. Like, literally just killed someone batshit insane.  “I-I’m not going to, uh, stab you if that’s what you think.”

Michael laughs. It’s not like he finds this situation funny or something. It’s just, pure disbelief. Disbelief at the statement. Disbelief at his fucking situation. Disbelief that he was about to die. Because Michael doesn’t picture his death often, but murdered in a parking lot was not one of the scenarios he’d imagined.

“No, really!” The guy raises his hands. Surrendering. Michael could make a break for it? Get back in the bar. “Look,” And the dude drops his sharp stick.

There’s a silence. The guy with his hands up just stands over Michael. Michael stays on the ground, brain frozen halfway through the complex equation of things that could happen and ways to not die.

Then the guy talks again, “I-uh- you weren’t supposed to… see that. I mean. Um, I’m Jeremy.”

Ah yes, a wonderful time for introductions. Good to know your murders first name. Wonderful.

“Yeah, I’m Jeremy and uh…” Jeremy -probably a fake name. Like why would he give out his actual real life name? “Um, can I buy you a drink.”

What?

Fifteen minutes ago -hell, fucking like 2 minutes ago- Michael would have been ecstatic to get a drink from a  handsome stranger, but after seeing a literal murder? He’s less excited if he’s honest.

“If you’re afraid I’ll, um, kill you or something, there’s -uh. Witnesses? Yeah, witnesses in the bar.” Jeremy explains, he seems pretty panicked about this whole thing too. “I can explain.”

MIchael just stares at him.

“Right, um. I’m going to go back into the bar. If you want you can join me. I guess. I’ll pay.” Jeremy babbles like he was the one to see the murder. But Michael reasons that he’d be pretty freaked out if someone saw him commit a murder. Fuck, he’s probably the only person standing in Jeremy’s way from getting away with literal murder. Of course he’s being nice about it.

Jeremy backs up slowly, like he’s hoping Michael will spring up before he’s fully in the bar. Fat fucking chance, dude. Michael’s good where he is. Once Jeremy has backed fully into the bar Michael gets inch by inch back to his feet.

His heart is pounding so fast and hard and he can barely feel his limbs. This must be what actual fear is like. It’s a lot different from fear that your character’s going to die. He feels less sick playing video games. There’s nothing tying him here now, he could just leave. He really should leave.

He should leave.

Michael’s heart takes a while to calm. His knees take even longer to rebuild themselves from Jello. It takes just enough time for him to decide to do the dumb thing. He could just leave. Never come back. Get out of here and move on with his life but he knows it’s going to eat him alive. The curiosity. The chance to talk to a real-life actual murder and here how he fucking evaporated that woman and why. He decides to go back in because there’s no one stupider than Michael Vincent goddamn Jones.

Michael Jones, biggest dumbass alive.

Still on wobbling legs, with a thousand frogs hopping in his stomach, he goes right back in the bar. No one looks at him and yet he feels like there are a million eyes on him. It’s awful, the vulnerable exposure all over his skin. The fear is still there. Adrenaline can suck his dick. He walks at a fucking snail’s pace to try not to fall over.

One foot. Next foot.

Jeremy’s sitting in a booth texting someone on his phone. Maybe he’s got some serial killer friends that get off on his descriptions. God, Michael can’t fucking understand why he’d wanted to fuck this guy before. He’s probably bald so he doesn’t have to wash blood out of his hair. That’d be a pain in the fucking ass, Michael bets.

“Ah-hem.” He clears his throat because there’s really nothing to say. And frankly, his tongue feels so thick in his mouth he doesn’t know if he’d be able to talk at all, let alone coherently.

Jeremy starts making a soft “Ap!” sound as he drops his phone. The fuck does he have to be skittish about?

“Oh, ah. You came back in! That’s good.” He pockets his phone again, “So, uh, do you want to sit down?”

Michael laughs again. One of those laughs where he doesn’t know where it came from. One that’s just there, like he didn’t make the sound at all, but he did. He sits down though, right on the edge of the seat. He doesn’t know why. Maybe to run faster? But really how much faster is three inches?

“So. I-uh, this is going to be completely insane. Fuck, you’re just not going to believe a word I say,” Jeremy goes off rambling, getting increasingly quieter and more strained in his voice as he goes on, “God, how am I going to explain this…”

Michael just kind of sits there. Waiting because, what the fuck does he say? ‘Aw no buddy, I’m sure whatever bullshit excuse you have is really convincing!’

The guy finally takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. Like he’s reorganizing his excuse in his head. Then he begins.

“Okay, you know that Lady? She was a Vampire.”

Well this dude’s fucking crazy. Michael called it, bullshit excuse. Except either this guy adamantly believes this and he’s like, legitimately crazy, or it’s the first excuse he could think of.

“I’m calling the fucking cops.” Michael tells him matter of factly, because it was a fact. To emphasise this he takes out his phone.

Jeremy looks at him bemused. Or amused? Michael knows what amused means but that’s not quite what Jeremy looks like and bemused sounds so goddamn similar so maybe? His eyebrows shot up and he looked like he wanted to smile. So if that’s not what bemused means then Michael’s been using that word wrong since he first learned it.

“Really? What are you going to tell them?” And Michael doesn’t get it. He should be begging him not to call. Threatening him! This guy just killed someone! The fuck is he so smug for?

“That you’re a fucking murderer!” Michael catches himself mid yell. But, looking around it seems everyone is either too drunk or doesn’t care enough to turn and even just give them a dirty look. “That you’re crazy and you killed that lady outside.” And then we’ll see who’s laughing.

“Really?” Jeremy mocks surprise, “But where’s the evidence?”

“I fucking saw y-“

“Yeah, but where’s the body?” Which… makes sense. The body just evaporated. How the hell did he do that. The only times Michael had ever seen anything like that happen was… in vampire movies. When the vampire got stabbed with… a wooden stake.

What the fuck.

Vampires aren’t fucking real. Vampires don’t exist.

Maybe Michael’s the one who’s crazy.

Maybe this is a dream. It certainly doesn’t feel real.

“Do you even know how you would describe the woman you think you saw me allegedly ‘murder’?” Jeremy cuts into his thoughts with his dumb fucking nonsense. Of course he knows what she looked like! Her hair was… beautiful, and her eyes were… really pretty or something. Fuck. He knows he knows what she looked like but the details are gone. He can’t picture her face but he knows she was gorgeous. Was she Asian? White? Black? He has no fucking clue, which doesn’t bode well for giving a convincing testimony.

“Why can’t I-? Did you do something..?” Michael drifts off. Either he has a concussion or something or something legitimately supernatural is going on here. And Michael wishes he thought it was a head injury.

Jeremy gives him that little white person grimace you do when you’re trying to say ‘sorry, man’ when you have no actual control over the situation at all. Michael’s had two beers and two shots so he’s starting to feel like he’s drunk too much to deal with this. Or not enough. Michael’s head is so full of just general buzzing and fog that the only place for his thoughts to go are out his idiotic mouth.

“…but vampires aren’t fucking real.”

Jeremy looks away and shrugs his shoulders. Yeah, yeah, Michael fucking gets it ‘what can I tell ya?’ and ‘it is what it is’ and all those fucking bullshit placating platitudes. ‘It’s all going to be fine’ yeah, bullshit it’s going to be fine. Fucking vampires exist.

Things are never going to be fine.

But if Jeremy had to kill that lady then does it make it okay to find him super hot? Because really, who hasn’t wanted to fuck Buffy?

And a dude buffy? The absolute dream for Michael’s dumb gay ass.

Really after the adrenaline and the fucking terror of tonight Michael may have discovered something about himself, and that is the thought of hunting vampires -especially with the cub equivalent of a goddamn Winchester brother- has got his dicks attention. He’s not suicidal so of course he’s not going to actually go around hunting vampires but it sounds like a pretty hot role play in the comfort and safety of his own home. Right now though? Michael just wants to be in the thick capable hands of Jeremy and then never hear from him again. Maybe he’ll forget about vampires one day. Heck if he can get Jeremy to fuck him hard enough he might forget by the morning.

“I’m Michael,” Michael says, trying to figure out quite how to pull off the transition from complete and utter disbelief to ‘let me get into them pants’. “By the way.”

Jeremy blinks.

“You told me your name, and I thought we could maybe try this again from square one.” Michael says and really everything has happened way too much so he is honestly just going to block it out until tomorrow. Or never. Who cares! “I’m an electrician and I’m here because my job’s boring and my life’s boring so I thought it might be a good time. Somewhere to do something and have a little fun.”

Jeremy shrugs and reintroduces himself, “I’m Jeremy. I hunt supernatural creatures-” creatures? Not just vampires? Well fuck, if goddamn bloodsucking dracula motherfuckers exist then fairies and centaurs might as well too. What the hell does it actually matter. “-but my day job is doing freelance art for next to no money. I’m here to kill a dangerous vampire, but now that that’s done I’m just here to drink.”

“Well that makes two of us,” Michael does that half smile that his last ex fucking loved. “So I’ve got to wonder what a vampire hunter’s house looks like. Walls hung with weapons and trophies of all the vamps you’ve dusted?” He laughs a little to show he’s not actually interested in hearing Jeremy’s fucking interior decorating scheme.

He laughs, “I think the landlord might not like that.” Jeremy stands rapping the table quickly as he stands -knock on wood?- “I was gonna get a shot. You in?”

Michael smiles.

His boss is going to be so pissed at him in the morning.

 

* * *

 

The night so far has gone almost exactly as Michael had hoped. Excluding the vampire thing. Obviously. But otherwise he’s met a hot guy, had a couple of shots, and is sharing an uber to the hot guys house after asking to see something they both know he doesn’t actually care about. In this case it might happen to be that Jeremy mentioned he had a necklace made of hellhound teeth. It sounds cool, yeah, but would Michael go out of his way just to see it? No.

The uber driver gives them a tired look as they leave, Michael clinging to Jeremy because it’s Texas, but it’s Austin and Jeremy’s got those massive guns that if he’s honest, Michael wouldn’t mind seeing in action again. With a little three fingered wave the driver’s off again and the night is cold and the air is thin.

Jeremy’s house is small to say the least, not in a great neighbourhood. But Michael’s not here to have kids, he’s here for a one night stand and then forgetting about Vampires and Ghosts and shit that his brain keeps coming up with explanations as to why they can’t be real anyway and so Michael’s going to sleep with a murderer. He’s done worse though. He once had an ex who played League of Legends.

“So hellhounds…” Jeremy continued the story of how he got the teeth as he flipped through his keys -jesus christ he had a lot of keys, it was like he was some kind of storage unit janitor or something- “…they usually burst back into flames when you kill them, but I wanted those teeth, so I-” The door opened, “-well I had to…What are you doing up?”

Jeremy stopped in the doorway, but Michael could easily see over him to where another man as sat on a couch with a book in hand. He can only hope this other guy is a roommate and for the love of god please don’t let him be this guy’s-

“Hun, who’s your friend?”

Boyfriend. Well now Michael’s never going to get laid. Thanks life, really fair hand you’re dealing him here.

“Oh, this is Michael. He saw me ice that vampire at the bar.” Jeremy explains, shutting the door behind him as it dawns on Michael that either Jeremy is really good at keeping it cool or he wasn’t planning on sneaking around behind his boyfriend’s back. So either this guy is a fucking idiot or him and his boyfriend aren’t exclusive. Michael doesn’t know if he’d be alright with that or not.

“Why’s he here?” The Boyfriend asks over his book.

Jeremy ‘um’s a little, “Well he wanted to see the necklace I got from that time we got rid of that cult-  The hellhound one.”

This Boyfriend puts his book down and he’s got these little reading glasses on and all of his hair held up in this messy bun. These two truly look like Michael’s fantasy threesome. He can say for sure right now that if they offered? He’d have his pants off before they’d even blinked.

God he’s so fucking lonely.

“He came all this way to see a necklace?” The boyfriend says, and he seems to get it. Like he hears how it sounds, because to anyone it sounds like Jeremy invited him over to fuck. “Is it just for the necklace or did you forget to text me?”

Jeremy goes beet red and Michael doesn’t really know what that means but he’s kind of stuck inside because Jeremy’s blocking the doorway. Fuck man He just wants to leave now. Well, yeah he wants to have a threesome, but if that’s off the table then really he just wants to leave.

Jeremy sputters, “I-uh-no!” Jeremy coughs, “No, really I just invited him to see the teeth. Proof! Because I was telling him about… vampires and things.”

“Well, if he’s here because of… uh… well I’m not really up for tonight. Bring him around Saturday maybe?”If only Jeremy had introduced his boyfriend then Michael wouldn’t have to just think of him is The Boyfriend. Also it’s starting to sound more and more like something was going on. Either they’re both murderers and Michael shouldn’t have come here or The Boyfriend thinks he’s here for a threesome. Well that’s two of three on the same page it seems at least.

“No!” Jeremy glances from Michael to his Boyfriend, “I, uh, Well if he wants to… but I swear! I swear to God I didn’t invite him for uh…”

“Well, he can see the necklace if he comes back on Saturday,” The Boyfriend says, getting up, “But I’m going to bed and you better be coming with me. You really need to tell me if you’re going to bring strange men here, whether you’re planning on having sex with them or not.”

Jeremy looks between them guiltily. Welp with is just great.

He takes an Uber home with a new number in his phone and the promise of a threesome on saturday apparently.

This has been a very weird night. Michael doesn’t even know if he wants to go, sure they’re both super hot and it’d be a good time but he should just delete Jeremy’s number right? Go back to doing nothing and forgetting Vampires are a thing.

Because honestly who wants to deal with that.

 

* * *

 

Michael looks at the text Jeremy sent him yesterday for about the fifty thousandth time. He’s still got this internal debate about what he’s going to do. It’s a struggle between how lonely and horny he is constantly and how much he’s decided that vampires and Hellhounds don’t actually exist. The bartender could have slipped something in his drink! Or Jeremy could have actually just killed a real life woman and he’s a fucking idiot for going to his fucking house rather than calling the cops. The problem is, it seems, that he can’t reconcile between his peace of mind and his peace of dick.

Why is his life so hard.

Buffy-> sorry about last night. i was a little drunk i guess. didnt eat yknow?

Buffy-> this is awkward and weird but i thought i should explain

Buffy-> it’s cool if you’re not into this just block me i guess? but me and Ryan have been talking about having a threesome for a while and he thought i had brought you over because of that which i swear was not what i was planning on

Buffy-> but uhhhh if youre down we’re down i guess

The lights in the house flicker on all around him. Electricity restored and Michael’s work here is done. His mind is on the texts and how to respond, they’ve been on his mind since he’d gotten them. Hell, Jeremy’s been on his mind since before that. There’s nothing in his life that matters enough to take his mind off of it. Nothing’s interesting or fun enough to occupy him with any other thought than if he should respond or delete.

Michael sits in his car just staring at his phone. He’s got nowhere to be and nothing to do until his boss calls him with somewhere to be. Otherwise he has all the time in the world just to stare at his phone while the angel and devil on his shoulder argue.

Trouble is he doesn’t know which one’s which really. They’re both more like two assholes who don’t know jack from shit.

The phone starts buzzing in his hand and his heart skips like fifteen beats thinking that it’s Jeremy. But it’s not. The screen reads ‘BossMan69 calling…’ and Michael doesn’t know if he’s sighing from disappointment or relief. Really it depends on what way he’s leaning in his internal struggle.

“Yeh?” He answers, pulling his feet from the dash. Time to get this show on the road, earn that bunce he needs to afford his five basic needs: food, shelter, water, video games, companionship. Or, well, four out of five isn’t that bad really.

Predictably his boss doesn’t call to tell him he has the day off, or a raise, or anything besides just where and what is needed and to confirm that even though he didn’t come back and he didn’t text that he fixed the wiring in that old couples house and he can move on to installing some switches in someone else’s place. Predictably he gets there later than his gps tells him he should because he spent at least ten minutes staring at Jeremy’s texts and wishing he hadn’t quit smoking. It’s to the point where if he saw someone pass by with a cigarette he might just leap out of his car and wrestle them for it. He doesn’t because it’s Austin and smoking is almost illegal here but he would have. Let it be noted that Michael would have done it. He fucking swears on the big man himself.

When he gets to the house Michael looks from the gps address- screen screaming out how he has arrived at his destination- to the house. It’s the only house it could be and fuck if he would just need to install switches. Michael would be fucking surprised if this place had light bulbs installed. It’s classic horror movie haunted old house, it’s even got the old dead leafless tree. Well, it might not be dead, it’s fall so there aren’t any leaves on any of the trees but that’s not the point. The point is there’s practically a lightning crash behind this house and Michael stares up at it. He doesn’t get freaked out easily and even here it’s more the fact that this place is old as shit that he’s bothered, but onto the property sends a shiver down his spine.

He grips his bag harder.

 

* * *

 

As it turns out the job is easier and harder than he thought it would be.

On one hand he actually didn’t need to install anything, so thank christ for that. On the other hand well, Michael isn’t much of a runner really.

Really the suspicion creeped in on him when he opened the door and was met with the most beautiful man he had ever seen. Like stunning, perfect skin and amazing eyes. Then he smiled with weird sharp teeth, oh and then he had Michael look over at something on the wall and while he was distracted the guy, uh what was it again? Oh right, he tried to fucking bite his neck.

Now he’s locked in the bathroom with a heart beating a million miles a fucking minute because he literally just decided that vampires don’t exist. He had just decided that and yet here’s this guy trying to fucking drink his blood, living in a straight up dracula-style weird old house.

Slow footsteps creep down the hall, obviously maximizing the scare factor because this guy wanted to be classic. Honestly it’s so cliche Michael almost doesn’t believe in vampires again. On the other hand the vampire dude starts running his claws against the wall and he sounds like he’s getting fucking close and Michael can guess how well a lock is gonna work against an actual creature of the night.

His phone buzzes again.

Shit!

Vampires have fucking super good senses right? As he immediately panics about how he’s going to actually die because his service provider needs to tell him right now that he’s almost out of data for the month. Michael whips out his phone to make it shut the fuck up because really what the hell else are you supposed to do in a vampires bathroom as ominously makes his way to kill you?

But it’s not TMobile. It’s Jeremy.

Buffy-> yeah this is weird you should just block me

The beautiful fucking son of a goddamn bitch vampire hunter. Michael knew that he was a stupid but honestly this is rock bottom. How did he forget that he has the number of a vampire fucking hunter?

You-> yo help??

You-> m at 33 rver garfen blvd

You->big creepy house can’t miss it

His phone buzzes back with Jeremy’s reply.

Buffy-> whatd u need????

You-> vamp help

Buffy-> shit man??? b thr sooon.

Buffy-> get a sharp stick

And with that sage advice in mind Michael can hear the wood on the door that is the only thing keeping him from becoming a bloodless corpse creaks. A dent begins to slowly form outward as the dude, with obviously inhuman strength, pushes his flat palm from one side of the door to the other. It’s fucking intimidating, yeah, but if this guy keeps up his whole slow pursuit thing that he seems to get off on he’s going to get fucking dead soon. Jeremy seems to know what he’s doing.

Michael hopes he does at least

The door splinters as it bends back farther and farther before the whole centre breaks away as a pale hand pushes its way through the door. He’s gonna have to call someone to come replace his door. Then he’s probably going to fucking murder them too. The long nails in the vampire’s hand scratch along the wood.

Searching for the fucking knob that’s going to pop the door open and then Michael’s going to die.

He’s so fucking scared he couldn’t even think of a good Shining joke.

Adrenaline doesn’t make things slow down like in the movies. Michael doesn’t get another five minutes to think of his next move, but it’s like his brain moves faster. Like when you close all other windows and suddenly your game moves a lot faster, his brain shuts off all the unnecessary windows of sexual frustration and disbelief and panic so the one and only function he needs can run at maximum speed; survival instinct time bitches.

The splintered section of wood from the door had slid across the tile floor. Sharp? Check. Wood? Check. Near him? Well nearer to him than to the vampire -whose hand found the door knob so now it really was split second.

No time to think.

Michael takes the leap and bends to grab it, but time doesn’t slow for him and the door clicks open as his hand grasps the splintery wood and he’s going to need tweezers soon. But the Vampire’s fangs are fully exposed, extended like a snake’s and Michael can see himself in third person perspective; bent double and clutching a piece of wood, overshadowed by a tall imposing figure poised to strike.

There’s only one thing he can do and that’s back the fuck up. Back up and stand up. But this isn’t a turn based game, there’s no Michael backs up then Vampires makes his move. It’s simultaneous as the ever encroaching threat looms closer, jaw wide, and Michael backs up until his back hits cool, hard tile that he can feel a thousand times more through his cotton shirt than he should. The wood splinters more in his hand when he grips it harder. He’s fucked but the part of his brain that tells him exactly how fucked he is was shut in favor of recalling literally any action movies he’s ever seen.

Michael knows it’s kill or be killed right now and he aims to kill.

Or maim. He’s still not sure how comfortable he is killing someone. Or Something.

The vampire takes a step closer and Michael’s had his arms for quite a while. He’s pretty sure he knows how long they are. He takes the swing, pointy end slashing across his body. He catches the vampire’s hands, dragging sharp splinters into gouges into his palms. Fucking get wrecked.

The vampire recoils, surprised, and Michael knows that at least he’s going to be the most difficult meal this vamp’s had in awhile.

“Fucking take that!” He yells kicking out at the Vampire’s balls, which doesn’t seem to do much other than knock the vampire off balance. It doesn’t last long though because Michael is not a kung fu master and he’s not very fast. A tight grip wraps around his ankle as the vampire steadies himself on Michael’s fucking leg and now it’s Michael’s turn to be off balance. And off balance doesn’t really cover it when, with the strength of a fucking ox, his leg gets wrenched upward and he tumbles backward onto the tile floor.

His elbows take the brunt of the force as his leg is dropped so his head doesn’t split in half, but he still cracks it hard against the floor, seeing white and feeling a deep nausea in the farthest parts of his stomach. And there’s a thousand pound man laying on top of im all of a sudden. A man made of fucking pure marble with razor sharp teeth and it’s the fucking end of the line.

The vampire’s teeth brush against the junction of neck and shoulder.

Michael still has a grip on the splintered wood.

Fangs plunge into his skin and it hurts like fire and knives.

Michael uses all of his strength, his considerably lackluster amount of strength, to drive the wood into the vampire’s back.

It doesn’t quite make it all the way to his heart but it clearly hurts because suddenly he can breath and his wounds are bleeding onto his shirt and skin and not into some fuckers mouth.

A door bangs open downstairs. “Michael!” Jeremy.

The vampire twists around to the source of the noise and Michael isn’t one to let an opportunity like this pass him by. He knees him right in the side, twisting himself to punch at the fucker. Which is a bad idea. It’s like punching a brick wall.

“Michael!” Jeremy yells from much closer.

“Fuckin’ hurry!” Michael yells back before the vampire gets his hands around his neck, crushing his windpipe. He doesn’t even know why he bothers clawing at his hand, trying to do something.

Jeremy appears in the doorway. The vampire turns his head again and Michael kicks out again, catching his ribs. “Take that you undead fuck!” Jeremy’s eyes light up in the corner of Michael’s vision.

Michael needs to stop being this gay for like two seconds.

With a stake in hand Jeremy runs in and now it’s two on one and Michael kicks his foot out hard, aiming for the jaw. He doesn’t know if you can knock out a vampire but he sure as hell tries. Jeremy goes straight for the heart, plunging the stake into the vampire’s heart with enough force to push all the way through his back. Then again, the ear splitting vacuum cleaner death rattle as the vampire dissolves into dust.

“Jesus fucking christ!” Michael topples onto his back, gasping for breath, “Fuck this holy fuck.”

Jeremy grins back at him, breathing hard too, “Yeah.”

His hands are so bloodless they don’t feel like his own. Fuck, nothing feels real past his eyes. “And you do this everyday? You’re a fucking lunatic!”

That laugh, it’s warm and genuine and full of relief over saving someone he barely knows, tugs right at his heart. But Michael shuts that down real quick. No need to catch any kind of feelings ever. Feelings, quite frankly, can suck his fucking dick.

“I wouldn’t say that, but yeah.” Jeremy says, still laughing in his eyes. Beautiful brown eyes that Michael could fucking care less about.

Couldn’t.

Michael couldn’t care less about.

And there’s Jeremy’s hand on his shoulder, “But you’re okay?” and it leaves him gasping, for a moment.

“Uh- yeah. No.” Michael cuts himself off, wrenching down his shirt, “He uh-” It still hurts. Two pinpricks and every vampire movie, every zombie movie, flashes before his eyes. Is he gonna turn? Is Jeremy going to kill him? Can he live off chicken blood and work the night shift? “I-I got, uh, bit.”

Jeremy blinks, “Oh, I have some, uh, disinfectant in the car. Infections. And a bandage for the bleeding,” He says, making a move to help Michael up, “But otherwise?”

Okay, no fear of becoming a vampire apparently? “No.” That’s lucky, “So bites don’t make you turn? I mean movies probably aren’t the most accurate thing to go by here but-”

“No-” Jeremy laughs like understands Michael’s hesitance. Like he’s been there. “No, it’s more, um, you have to drink vampire blood. That’s how you turn.” He pulls down his own collar, “I’ve been bitten -fuck- fifteen times?” Sure enough, his neck is littered with small white pin pricks. “It’s not really a big deal. It hurts like hell but otherwise.”

“Right.” Michael says, using Jeremy to finally get on his feet. “Right.”

Right, right.

When his wounds are dressed and his questions are answered the car is quiet. It’s a lot to take in. True it was a lot to take in before, but now it’s like it’s settled in his head.

Vampires are real.

Vampires are real and he has a crush on buffy thinks Jeremy is kind of attractive and will leave it at that because he really doesn’t want to get involved in this vampire nonsense.

Except that’s the most exciting thing he’s done in his whole life. That’s the first thing in years to get his heart to beat faster than a destiny raid It’s the first time he’s actually been in real danger and all of a sudden extreme sports make sense. He wants to fucking go bungee jumping.

“How long,” He edges into the silence carefully, “Uh, how long have you been hunting vampires?”

It gets harder and harder to lie to himself every time Jeremy laughs. “I didn’t believe any of it even after finding Ryan’s books. He was… really into supernatural stuff. I just thought he was into fairytales and shit but I got attacked by a fucking little goblin thing and I believed all of it since then.” He explains, “But my, uh, first vampire was maybe three years ago and it was just some dumbass who’d been sleeping for too long to know any modern technology, so it wasn’t hard.”

There’s one important thing Michael caught in all that and it’s unfortunate but, “So how long have you and Ryan been dating?”

“Uh,” Pausing to think is not a great sign for Michael. A threesome is one thing but Michael sincerely doubts he fucks good enough to get Jeremy to leave a long term relationship, “Five years? Five and a half. Learned about the supernatural stuff maybe four years ago? Got engaged eight months ago though. I know that one.”

Oh, they’re engaged. That’s nice.

“Engaged?”

“Ha, don’t have a date or anything. Hard to do that shit you know?” Jeremy says. Michael agrees even though no, he doesn’t know.

The car stops in front of Jeremy’s house again. Maybe Michael can worm his way to be a permanant fuck buddy? Or they could be one of those weird throuple things you see on buzzfeed? But he’s getting ahead of himself. He’s getting way ahead of himself. He just thinks Jeremy’s hot, no need to get into any weird three person relationships quite yet. He doesn’t even know how that would work. Ryan gets Jeremy monday wednesday friday and Michael has him tuesday thursday saturday? Do they alternate sundays?

“Babe! I’m home!” Jeremy announces into the house.

“I didn’t know you had gone!” Ryan yells back as Michael follows timidly behind. He doesn’t know why he’s here.

“I went to go help Michael with a vampire situation.” Jeremy calls, taking off his shoes in the entrance. Michael quickly follows perhaps a little too quickly. He hopes Jeremy didn’t see that. He’d think Michael was some kind of idiot, almost falling trying to pull off sneakers like a fucking idiot.

And again Michael’s reminded how incredible Jeremy is. Ryan walks in, drying his hands on a tea towel, as handsome and tall as ever. “Michael?”

Ouch.

“Uh, Michael.” Jeremy presents him with a nervous hand like he’s something to be embarrassed about. He is, but he doesn’t like being treated like it. That’s just fucking rude. “Michael? From, uh, yesterday?”

Ryan looks him up and down. He’s starting to feel really exposed and uncomfortable under the judgmental gaze of this apparent supernatural expert when Ryan finally smiles. He’s got pretty teeth and a smile like he’s never seen any suffering. He’s a good liar, Michael can tell. “Right! Michael.”

It’s thursday. A day of confusion and a day of awkward meetings and realizations. Thursday’s always that kind of day, a day where a lot’s happening. This thursday Ryan smiles at him, and Jeremy’s by his side and his heart fills with warmth and Michael knows in that moment that he needs to get laid more than anything in the world because he’s barely known these two a day and he thinks he might be a little in love. “H-hi.”

“Do you wanna-” Ryan winds the tea towel around his wrist “-I made enough dinner for left overs if you want to join us?”

“Um, yeah. Sure.” He says. Honestly he had no other choice.

 

* * *

 

They bring it up first. At dinner. Jeremy and Ryan have this whole cutesy couple thing going on that makes Michael’s stomach hurt but they have this whole thing where they look at him and they hold hands and it’s like they’re going to offer him the best deal he could ever accept.

“So…” It begins after comfortable conversation peters out to comfortable silence over mashed potatoes and chicken legs. “You actually did really good.”

“Hmm?” Michael asks with his mouth full.

“Handling the vampire,” Jeremy clarifies, “You did good.”

“Mmm.” Michael agrees verbally but not mentally. He knows he would be a fucking raisin if Jeremy hadn’t been there to help him. He swallows his potatoes, “Thanks, but I would have been toast without you there!” Thank fuck he ran into Jeremy at that bar.

“Ha, well you handled yourself pretty well,” Jeremy assures and the look he gives Ryan kicks Michael right in the chest. “You’d be welcome to join sometime.”

Join? Join what? “Er-”

Ryan cuts in, “He means that -well- when we meet people and we show them vampires and supernatural shit is real they sometimes want to… help out?” Oh. They want to bring him into their vampire hunting squad.

“That’s-maybe.” It’s an interesting idea. But he has a job and he values his life. Michael stares at his potatoes. Who’s he kidding. He doesn’t value his life he’s fucking bored at home all the time.

He wants to be fucking Buffy for a change.

“Maybe,” he says, “Uh maybe I can help out? One time. See how it is…” Like a fucking vampire hunter internship program. Like he’s fucking auditing a class or some shit.

Jeremy and Ryan look at each other and then back to him, “Sure.”

 

* * *

 

 

At five his shift ends and plugs Jeremy’s address into his phone. It’s so fucking surreal still, even after hanging around with them last night talking about exactly what he’d be doing. He feels like he should prepare, mentally or physically or something, but his head’s just empty because he just can’t understand what’s going on.

He’s going to go help two gorgeous guys hunt vampires.

He wonders if this means the orgy’s off.

Michael pulls up into the driveway. Does his heart exist? Or is it beating so fast he can’t feel it? It’s just weird to think that he’s going from just a normal job to actual supernatural shit. He knocks on the door and just kinda stands there, rocking on the balls of his feet. Nerves.

It’s Ryan who opens the door, smile on face, “Michael! You made it.”

“Yep,” He says because there’s nothing else to say and saying nothing is even worse.

“Come in,” Ryan says, making room for him to shuffle in. He takes off his shoes; he knows the drill.

“So what are we doin’?” He’s already buzzing. Fae? Sea monsters? It’s been all he could think about and he’s been doing research. Well if looking up mythical creatures on wikipedia at four in the morning counts as research.

“I’m making hot cocoa babe!” Jeremy calls from the kitchen, “Ask Michael if he wants some!”

Well it doesn’t seem like anything particularly exciting is actually going on then. The buzzing in his chest slows.

“You’re not going to make me any?” Ryan asks as they both cross into the kitchen.

Jeremy clutches his chest in mock offence, “You think that I don’t already know you want some!” He smiles at Michael who is very gay, “So do you want any?”

“Uh,” It’s gonna make him gassy and he likes both these people, “Nah.”

Jeremy shrugs at him, “Suit yourself.” Like he’s doing this for himself, he’s thinking of them on this one. If it was up to him he’d be chugging hot chocolate six ways from sunday. Fucking lactose goddamn intolerance.

“So uh,” the room had settled into a comfortable silence and no one had answered his question, “What are we doing?”

Ryan pauses blowing on his drink, “Well this is your first official go, so we’re gonna go slow.”

“Like faeries or some bullshit?” He could fuck up a faery. He could wreck a fucking faery.

Jeremy and Ryan laugh.“Oh god no,” Ryan says, “Faeries are probably the most dangerous.”

Note to self: you cannot just fuck up a faery.

“Yeah, no there’s a gnome that’s tearing up some golf courses,” Jeremy explains, “Luckily everyone thinks it’s a mole.”

A gnome? Like a tiny garden decoration with a stupid smurf hat? “How do you know it’s a gnome?” Because isn’t it more likely that it’s just a mole anyway?

“Well there’s… uh… signs.” Jeremy says unhelpfully. No shit.

Ryan cuts in, “Flags, clubs, balls and all sorts of things have been going missing and gnomes get pretty-” He gestures vaguely with his cup, “Enamoured with human things.”

“Okay…” It’s not the biggest indication. People lose things all the time but they’re the experts so Michael’s just going to trust them on this. It’s not like he has any idea about the signs a gnome is living in his pants let alone on a golf course. “Okay so, what? We lure the little guy out with some cool people things, snatch him up, and then what? Release him into the wild? Kill him?”

Jeremy smacks himself in the face, “Ah shit, Ryan! People things!”

There’s barely enough time for Ryan to get out a confused “Pe-” Before Jeremy jumps out of his chair.

“We’ve wasted so much time looking for what they eat, but-” He calls, already out of the room, “-can’t we just…”

Exchanging looks with Ryan is a weirdly bonding experience. Maybe because they’re both just so confused by what’s happening.

“We can set a trap with” Jeremy marches back into the room, big box in hand, “Old shit we don’t need!” He looks so proud of himself. Ryan looks less proud when he stands up to look at the contents of the box.

“No.” He says. Which fuck, he’s the expert. Or one of them. It sounded like a good idea to Michael. “We’re not using my computer parts!”

“But Ryan,” Jeremy whines, “You never use them.”

“I will!”

“When?!”

Oh shit. This turned into an argument too fast for Michael to handle. Normally he’d just leave but they’re both standing in the only door way. Maybe he could just climb out the window.

“Just admit you’re using this as an excuse to get rid of my shit!”

Michael pointedly looks away from the arguing couple. His friends? You don’t technically count as a booty call until you’ve slept with them, right?

“You always say you’re going to use them! When? When are you gonna use broken computer parts from the 1800s? I’ll tell you. Now!”

“You can’t just volunteer my things!”

This is uncomfortable. This is weird and Michael really shouldn’t be here for this.

“I just thought this would be a good way to lure the goblin. Sorry I solved our problem I guess.” Jeremy drops the box of computer parts a little harder than is probably good for them. “We can use my things then. I’ll go grab some old shit of mine I guess and we’ll use those to catch this fucker. They’ll probably be more interested in some action figures anyway.”

Honestly this might be one of the more uncomfortable situations Michael’s ever been in.

Ryan gasps, “You are not.”

“Oh yes I am, Ryan.” Jeremy says, glaring at his fiance.

Ryan stares, horrified and Michael starts to feel like maybe he’s missing some context on these action figures. “We’re so close to that full set, please-”

Jeremy sighs dramatically, hand on chest, “I know Ryan, but we need to get rid of those gnomes, and if you won’t let me use your useless garbage, well…”

There’s a long silence as Jeremy and Ryan glare at each other. Each daring the love of their life to crack. Is this normal couple shit? Michael hasn’t dated anyone for longer than two weeks since, well, high school.

“Fine.” Ryan says, “But only because I got you the last of the set for Christmas.”

Jeremy’s eyes light up, “You what!” then his face falls, “You bitch! I’ll ruin Christmas for you too then! Remember-”

Honestly, Michael might give anything for a hot boyfriend who spoils his Christmas presents.

 

* * *

 

It’s gnomes (which they caught and replaced with an actual mole in the dead of night, but not before Ryan’s whole collection of computer parts was ripped to shreds) then a dragon (it was tiny and starting small fires outside of town and Jeremy almost convinced Ryan to let him keep it before the thing set Ryan’s shoes on fire) and in what felt like no time he was out with Jeremy hunting dangerous vampires (Jeremy’s laugh makes Michael’s heart twist) and in the wilderness with Ryan, luring werewolves away from civilization (Ryan’s smile makes Michael dizzy and giddy).

He doesn’t even realize they’d missed saturday plans until Jeremy reminded him.

Lil J-> i kno we were gonna hang like two weeks back but if ur on for this monday we can make up for that

Which either means ‘time to make up for lost threesome’ or what it says on the bag. Hang, beers, scrabble. Only time will tell.

Not much time. Michael pulls up to the curb. He’s prepared for both scenarios, wearing his nice underwear and his tighter pair of pants, but nothing too overt. To someone that didn’t know Michael only owned two unstained shirts he would  just look like a regular guy.

The sun’s on his face and he locks his car. Condoms? Check. Beer? Check.

He knocks on the door. Over analysing and over thinking everything. Jeremy brought up the missed booty call, meaning he’s probably going to get laid. But Ryan and Jeremy hadn’t seemed particularly interested in him so it was probably just a regular hang. But you don’t have to be interested in someone as a person to have sex with them, so-

“Hey Michael,” Jeremy smiles from the open door, “You brought beer! Nice. Come on in!”

Somewhat stiffly, Michael does just that and suddenly it’s easier. He’s been in this house before, he has beer and he knows where to put it. He’s friends with Jeremy and Ryan and what happens will happen. That doesn’t mean the anxiety tightening in his chest is gone, but it’s easier for him to say ‘fuck it’ and start heading to the kitchen, throwing back a quick, “Thanks for inviting me. I’m just gonna put the beer in your fridge.”

“I’m real glad you brought that. I knew I forgot something, we only have hard liquor.” Jeremy catches up behind him, diverging from Michael’s path to the fridge to instead kiss Ryan, “And you didn’t buy any last week either.”

“Well I don’t drink it, how am I supposed to remember to buy it?”

“So, uh, what did you guys want to do?” Michael asks.

Jeremy and Ryan exchange glances that could mean anything. Don’t jump to conclusions. “We were thinking about watching a movie,” Jeremy’s got a lilt in his voice that might not mean that this movie is a ‘netflix and chill’ sort of situation, “But we can do whatever you want.

Michael is very consciously not getting his hopes up and his mouth, which feels farther from his brain than usual, says, “Uhh, yeah. Movie. Um.” Pull yourself together! “A-a movie sounds fun. What were you going to watch?”

Jeremy shrugs and Michael grabs his rising hopes and pulls them down like a helium balloon. Intuition can be a dumb fucking bitch sometimes. Best not to make an ass out of him or Jeremy.

“Well Jeremy’s never seen Pulp Fiction,” Ryan says, giving Jeremy an intense look.

“Oh right!” Jeremy says, “We were gonna watch Pulp Fiction.”

Jeremy and Ryan look at each other again. Doing that weird ‘we’ve been dating long enough to develop telepathy’ thing couples do.

“I’ll make popcorn, you get it set up.” Jeremy says as he apparently either wins or loses their telepathic negotiation.

Ryan nods and turns to Michael, “Do you want something to drink? We’ve got soda, water, and you brought beer.”

“Uh,” This situation is too stressful for him to stay completely sober, “I’ll have a beer.”

 

* * *

 

Michael hasn’t been able to pay attention to the movie and he doesn’t know if he’s supposed to be. Jeremy seems enraptured by Uma Thurman’s performance, but he keeps creeping closer and closer to Michael. Maybe it’s subconscious? But why lean closer and closer to Michael rather than Ryan?

Jeremy’s hand brushes his thigh and Michael can feel every vibrating molecule in his body. He could feel a fly bat its wings across the room. He tries to pay attention to the movie.

“Milkshake.” Some character he doesn’t know the name of says. Jeremy’s hand is fully on his thigh now. This is happening isn’t it? His dick is starting to take some notice too. Jeremy’s hand is so close and he’s been alone a long, long time. He’s just so fucking hot.

“I’m gonna go get more popcorn.” Ryan leaves and Michael gives a little nod to his back for apparently no reason. Everything in his brain is going so slow. Someone on screen laughs. Jeremy’s thumb traces circles in his thigh and his heart is in his ears so loud you’d think it would deafen him but he can hear birds chirping in fucking Europe.

Ryan comes back without refilling the popcorn bowl. In fact, he has no bowl. And he sits next to Michael, so now he’s sandwiched between the two and they’re both leaning on him, hands on him. He’s breathing three times as hard as normal but who could blame him? Michael moves his own hands, slowly. One, then the other.

First he lets his left drift closer and closer to Jeremy’s and when their pinkies touch he feels like a middle schooler. This was going to happen and they all know it, why did it have to move so slowly and so carefully. Why did he have to plan eight moves ahead? This isn’t fucking chess. So he takes the leap because it’s been a long time coming and Jeremy is so fucking hot.

He grabs Jeremy’s face and leans in to catch his lips. To kiss him.

Jeremy makes a startled, ‘ah!’ and then his hands are both on Michael’s waist and his beard scratches Michael’s face as he kisses back. This is happening. Holy fucking shit, this is happening.

There are two pairs of hands on the hem of his shirt. Two pairs of lips kissing him, Jeremy’s lips in tandem with his own and Ryan’s on his neck, finding those places on his pulse that make him sigh and moan. It’s like being with one person with two heads and four lips. Maybe years of monogamy turn you into a single finely tuned instrument with sex. Getting that routine together and knowing each other so intimately and knowing exactly what does what to your partner and how long they can last.

Michael whines and maybe it’s because Ryan grazes his teeth just below his ear or if it’s the thought of becoming part of this routine, this shared machine.

Jeremy pulls away and Michel tries to follow, but then he feels his shirt coming off and the next step from making out comes back to him. His dick is straining on his jeans. Well, he doesn’t really need them anymore. Ryan and Jeremy seem to decide wordlessly to double team Michael’s body, trying to cover every inch in kisses which makes taking off his pants difficult, but he settles for unbuttoning them. God that’s so much better.

The sound of Michael’s relief seems to be a cue for Ryan because no sooner had Michael groaned than Ryan wound his fingers in Michael’s hair and tilted his head back to kiss him softly. Following, lingering kisses - letting Michael set the pace. Well Michael wasn’t one for slow and sweet. Especially not when Jeremy’s hand starts to palm his cock.

“Mmm fuck,” Michael groans between kisses and Ryan chuckles and Michael can feel it vibrating through his chest. He pulls Ryan back by his collar, bringing him back to the fast and hard pace Michael had set to handle the anticipation as Jeremy settles between his thighs and starts to pull down his pants.

Ryan pulls back, fixing Michal with a hungry look, his devious little smirk burning it’s way into Michael’s mind. Jeremy licks a long stripe from base to head and Michael can’t help but gasp.

Michael pulls himself back to his senses because Ryan’s looking at him with such a smug, satisfied look, he can’t let him get away with it. He pops the button on the front of Ryan’s pants, which shuts his stupid face up. Jeremy seems to be doing his utmost to distract Michael from giving his fiance a handjob, which would be fair in any other situation, but now it’s just plain rude. Jeremy keeps doing this thing with his tongue that makes Michael just want to hold on to something for support, but instead Michael starts pumping at Ryan’s dick and Ryan just moans and leans his head on Michael’s shoulder. Not even trying to help Jeremy.

Which… Is actually super fucking hot. Ryan, who’s always in charge and who takes control in research, in planning. Ryan, just becoming pliant and whining with Michael’s hand on his dick.

And Jeremy starts groaning around Michael’s cock, and it doesn’t take a genius to know two plus two equals Jeremy is touching himself through his pants and the thought makes it hard not to just cum right then and there.

Everything is fucking magical and Michael can’t believe anything that’s happening.

 

* * *

 

Michael wakes up, overly warm from being squashed between two people all night, and in desperate need of a glass of water and a piss. He tries to sit up, but Jeremy just tightens his grip around Michael’s shoulders.

“Hmm, no…” Jeremy says vaguely, brow furrowing. Michael’s heart is so light he could be floating through the fucking ceiling. There aren’t words that exist in the world that can explain how much this can’t be a one night thing. How Michael knows he’s gotta be here every day, held down by Jeremy. How the steady breathing of Ryan right behind him can’t just be here today and not the next and the next.

As Jeremy said last night when he wasn’t sure if he should leave or not, this bed is definitely big enough for three people.

He’s still got the piss though, and fix his parched throat, so -much to sleeping Jeremy’s dismay- Michael extricates himself carefully and climbs over Ryan’s sleeping form.

From the doorway he smiles over at them, and the clock on the nightstand blares out ‘3:26 am’. The wee early hours of a Tuesday morning.


End file.
